


no heir

by gingerbread man (xphantomhive)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Poetry, Post-Scratch, honestly i wrote this for english class, i just want an a man the teacher is a bitch, im not a very good poet sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 12:18:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6328882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xphantomhive/pseuds/gingerbread%20man
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>— i find that falling apart is easier than putting myself back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no heir

It is much too loud when he wakes, at three in the morning  
The wind rocks the foundation of his house like a man scorned  
And there is a soft, steady tick-tock within the walls of his mind

He treads to the kitchen for a glass of something, anything, to soothe his aching throat  
Remembers that he hasn't been shopping in weeks, months, years  
And finds himself drinking a half-full bottle of apple juice

That weighs heavy on his tongue, tastes like guilt and lost memories of a time before  
He knows that he's dug his own grave  
That he dug it decades, eons, centuries ago  
But he still refuses to lay in it

So he lives, drags his feet, moves like a zombie through his days, a man half-dead  
The wind lashes against his window, shakes his rickety house, and he touches the glass  
"What's wrong?" he asks it quietly, "Why are you angry?"

The wind only responds with another shaking breeze, and the man heaves a sigh  
He knows it won't be reasoned with, so he drags himself back to bed  
And as the clock strikes five, he falls back to sleep, and hopes never to wake again

But his hopes are not granted, and he wakes as the clock strikes six in the evening  
His sister, a calm woman, has called and invited him to dinner  
Her message plays from his house phone, the one he regrets buying

It's late when he leaves his house, jacket draped on his arm  
Much too late for dinner, he knows  
But she waits for him anyway, patiently, within the walls of a cramped cafe

The sun flickers off on the horizon, and the orange-pink sky dies silently  
"Why do you do this to yourself?" she asks, but not rudely, "You're killing yourself."

He nods, and the coffee in his hand weighs his tongue down, but not with guilt  
"I'll be going now," he tells her, "Let's do this again sometime."

He leaves, though she calls for him to come back  
And when he steps outside, the wind blows softly, and brushes his lips like a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> yes, i really wrote this for english class and yes, i really did turn it in for a grade. i suck at poetry. sorry about that.
> 
> it's called no heir because i wasn't sure what to call it and collaborated with a pal.
> 
> me: maybe i could name it no air  
> me: but like h e i r  
> her: do it


End file.
